


Refractions

by DrHu



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Claudeleth Valentine's Day 2020, F/M, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Golden Deer Route, Fluff, Ice Skating, Post-Time Skip, welcome to fire emblem where the timeline is messed up and the numbers don't matter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:46:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22732762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrHu/pseuds/DrHu
Summary: The cold and Claude don't mix. But his time in Fodlan has clearly shown him that it's all a matter of perspective, and that in the end he may know less than he thinks.
Relationships: My Unit | Byleth/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 18
Kudos: 75





	Refractions

**Author's Note:**

> Don't try to seriously put this in a sensible way within the game's war phase timeline; it'll never work. 
> 
> A quick thing, a tad late but for the Claudeleth Valentine's Day special event going around.

It is exceptionally cold during the Pegasus Moon that year. 

Claude isn’t sure he’s ever experienced a winter this cold. It’s so cold just being outside for five seconds would crack his hands. It’s so cold leaving even a patch of wrist exposed would send a tidal wave of goosebumps through his whole body. It’s so cold that sticking one hand out from the covers after waking up would turn into at least half an hour of self-negotiation, and by the time he got up he’d already be late. 

He isn’t the only one having a hard time, but it’s almost frustrating to see others barely bat an eyelash at the chill. People raised in Faerghus really are something else, maybe even an entirely different breed of creature. Every time he’d see someone open a door leading outside without flinching at the biting breeze, he almost wants to cry foul. 

Teach of course is counted among them. It isn’t particularly surprising, since not many things make her flinch in general. But, stars above, these marches she would take them on are _testing_ him. 

They’re returning to Garreg Mach, taking a route that had them coming in from the north, through the more mountainous regions surrounding the monastery. Claude doesn’t know whether to feel grateful that the strenuous effort needed for the hike is just enough to keep the monstrous iciness at bay. 

As they march downhill, a sparkle from the distance catches everyone’s eye. Claude is astonished to see a lake, frozen entirely from bank to bank. Byleth calls for a break as they approach, and the company slowly disperses. 

Claude fidgets, trying to keep from staying too still lest the windchill freeze him right over. Wrapping his cloak tighter around himself, he gingerly makes his way to his former professor, who is silently surveying the frozen water. 

“Need something, Claude?” she asks, once he’s close enough.

“Oh, you know, just to get out of those iced over hellscape,” he replies, overly cheery. 

“Not a fan of the cold, huh?” 

“No. It was never this cold where I’m--I’ve just never had it this bad. Never seen so much water frozen at once either.”

Byleth side-eyes him, but otherwise says nothing regarding the slip of tongue. There’s a hint of a smile playing at the edges of her lips. 

“If that’s the case, I guess you’ve never gone skating before?” 

“Never _what?”_

She smirks, jerking her chin in the direction of the lake. Claude, in mild horror, watches as several people glide across the shining surface of the lake. Sure enough, most of them are those who grew up in Faerghus. 

How could they stay upright? What in the world are they even gliding on? The gears in Claude’s mind turn furiously, and it isn’t until Byleth holds something up do things start clicking into place. 

She holds a pair of boots, tightly strapped to a thin blade of steel beneath each sole. He stares and stares, unwilling to believe what she’s implying. 

“Teach, you can’t be serious.” 

“What’s not to be serious about?” 

“There is no way that works.” 

Byleth raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that?” 

She treads down to the frozen banks, and Claude, too dumbfounded to protest, can do nothing but follow after her. Byleth plops onto the ground as she changes into the impossible blade-boots. Up close, he can get a better look at the others whizzing by, and even then he can scarcely believe his eyes. He almost wants to believe there was magic involved; no way could anyone balance on such tiny pieces of metal like that. 

Strapped in, Byleth carefully rises to her feet, proving him wrong on the first count. She steps closer to the edge, placing a toe onto the frozen water as she gives Claude one last challenging look. His expression must have been odd, otherwise she wouldn’t have laughed. 

She takes another step onto the lake, and with a strong push, Claude watches his friend fly. 

There’s no effort in it, nothing beyond a periodic push with her legs. Byleth sails across the glimmering surface, her hair flung behind her in the wind as she weaves around the others. She skates as if she’s walking on air, her hands casually locked behind her back. Gaining some distance, she bends forward and pushes again, sending her racing across the ice. Her posture is flawless, her technique that of an expert, and Claude is quite frankly riveted. She looks as though she doesn't have a care in the world. 

She slows down for a fraction of a moment, nearly giving him a heart attack as she kicks up a leg and her feet leave the ground, twirling through the air before landing with a flourish. She whirls around the perimeter of the lake a few more times before returning to him. Slowing to a stop before him, Byleth wears a playful smile as he gathers his thoughts. 

“Please tell me you didn’t take us through this route just so you could do that.” 

“Not intentionally, but I knew we would be coming through here anyway, so I figured some of us could have some fun.” She holds her arms out and spins in place like a top. There’s a childlike freedom there, and in spite of the cold, Claude finds it refreshing. It’s rare to see her like this. 

“Well, you go ahead and do that and let me know when we’re ready to go.” 

“Oh, Claude, where are you going? You didn’t think you were excluded from this, did you?” 

This time, it isn’t the physical chill that freezes him in his tracks. She chuckles at his expression, stepping back onto solid land on those thin blades of hers. Claude takes a step back in response as fear slowly closes over his heart. The Master Tactician desperately tries to devise a scheme to get him out of this, but Byleth has him cornered when she takes his wrist. 

“Come on, give it a try? Please?” 

Her invitation is warm and hopelessly enticing, and he knows there’s no hope for him. Claude’s shoulders slump in defeat, silently cursing his weakness. 

“Don’t see how I can do this without those boots though.” 

Her smile grows. “That won’t be a problem.” 

Several minutes later, and Claude finds himself teetering dangerously on the edge of a fine piece of metal. Gritting his teeth, he feels he’s about to rip right into Byleth’s flesh with how tightly he’s holding onto her. 

She doesn’t seem to mind much as she gently coaxes him onto the ice. One foot gingerly plants itself on the slippery surface, then another, and then Claude feels as though there’s no surface beneath him at all. He would curse the person who was ever so _kind_ as to lend him their skates were he not already screaming so loudly on the inside. 

“Relax, Claude. I won’t let you fall,” Byleth soothes. 

His hands are in hers, and they’re so warm the heat penetrates right through his gloves. She’s not afraid at all, and she stands tall and steady even when he feels he’s about to topple right into her. Claude finds himself falling again, not onto hard ice, but right into that warm safety net he now knows as trust. He believes her, with his whole heart and soul. He’s _crazy,_ and he believes her. 

She keeps them close to the bank, and Claude almost feels like they’re slipping back in time, back to an easier place when the continent wasn’t on fire, when the hardest problem he had in the moment was getting his assignment turned in on time. It’s hard to hate it, hard to hold the cold in contempt, not when Byleth is smiling so genuinely, her cheeks rosy and her laughter so clear. 

He eventually gets to a point where he can shuffle a bit forward on his own, and cheers ring out in the distance at his success. Claude gives his tutor a shaky grin. He might not be able to fly like she can, but it’s a start. 

It’s a good place to stop, and they take a breather sitting along the bank. Claude stretches out his legs, waiting for Byleth to fetch a few things (he draws the line at walking on land with blades strapped to his feet). His breath clouds as he stares out onto the landscape. The light dances differently as it bounces off the glossy surface of the frozen lake. It sparkles and throws off rainbows, and when he tilts his head just a little, the kaleidoscope of sunbeams shifts, and the shapes and rays change. 

Over the lake, past the remaining mountain ridges, Claude gazes into the skyline. If he squints hard enough, he can just barely make out the borders of Garreg Mach. It shouldn’t take more than a couple more hours to reach it. 

Despite the biting temperature, he’s surprised he’s in no rush to return. 

Claude’s thoughts are interrupted when something heavy and warm is wrapped around his shoulders. A warm, steaming cup is pushed into his hands as Byleth takes a seat next to him.

“We should be ready to go in a little bit,” she relays. She stares off, watching the army skitter about. “It’s too bad we couldn’t come up here five years ago. Would have made a nice field trip.” 

“We can stay a little bit longer,” Claude murmurs. 

She turns back to him, intrigued. “I thought you didn’t like the cold.” 

He also thought he had no one to rely on but himself to fulfill his goals. He thought trust was a far away pipe dream, something more distant and less attainable than even his own dreams. Claude thought he could see the world as it is,, but meeting a certain someone in his life has turned the world upside down. 

So what was a bit of cold to him? He thought he knew many things , and now he feels he knows so little. 

What a strange, _wonderful_ feeling it is. 

He takes the time to warm up, downing his drink before shrugging off the thick blanket. Claude rolls his shoulders and stretches, looking at Byleth with anticipation. 

“One more round then? Before we head out?” 

She nods, and they’re back on the ice. There’s a bit more low cursing, a few close calls, but more progress is made. They stop before Claude is too tired for the remaining march, and Byleth playfully pushes him back towards the banks. 

“Say, where did you learn to skate, anyway?” 

“My dad grew up in Faerghus. He learned it then, and taught me along the way during my mercenary days.” 

“When the war is over, you should start up ice skating lessons. I think it’d be really popular! I’d certainly sign up, at the very least.” 

She laughs, they both do, enjoying the rare lighthearted moment...

...Until someone comes barreling down the ice, colliding into Claude. He’s knocked off balance, his arms shooting out in a vain attempt to maintain control, but he knows he’s on his way down. A hand shoots out, snatching onto his cloak and changing his momentum. Claude topples into Byleth, and they crash into the ice, the latter cushioning the fall. Byleth’s head bounces off the ice with a dull thud, and she sees stars for a moment. 

She hears distant calls, and a weight shifts above her. The world eventually rights itself, and she blinks to the sight of a pair of worried green eyes looming above her. 

“Whoops,” she exhales. “Guess I couldn’t quite keep you from falling after all.” 

There’s a pause, and a chuckle escapes him. Before long, they’re both laughing, slowly trying to rise from the ice as others reach them. As cool as the mountain air is, Claude feels no chill. Everyone jokes and cheers as they make their way back to the path. Before they completely leave the frozen landscape behind them, he takes one last look at the dancing lights shining from the glassy surface. 

He would like to return here some day, he wishes. When the sun can finally shine onto a Fodlan that isn’t burning from war and death. Claude stares, long and hard, before someone hollers out to him, and he turns and slowly walks away, back onto the frigid path.

**Author's Note:**

> I have most definitely written something like this before but ice skating is GREAT aesthetic and I will ride that horse into the ground. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated!


End file.
